


An Exercise in Sarcasm and Sincerity + Redux

by abriata



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-25
Updated: 2011-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abriata/pseuds/abriata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/kurt_blaine/6639.html?thread=2908655#t2908655">this prompt</a>, except things stopped cooperating halfway through so there's two almost-fills instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Version 1.0

**Author's Note:**

> Author tag, please?

1.

The shopping spree was more an accident than anything.

("Yeah," Chris snorts, "if you call climbing into a cab and asking to be taken to the nearest large mall an accident."

"Shut up," Darren says. "You're ruining the story.")

The mall was pretty unimpressive, actually, but it had five department stores and a couple restaurants that weren't just part of the food court so it at least counted.

("Five?" Chris says skeptically. "Just because it's at an end of the mall does not mean it automatically qualifies as a department store."

"Why not?" Darren asks patiently, and keeps talking while Chris tries to explain his reasoning.)

The quest was of epic importance: winter was coming, and there was great need for a matching set of scarf and mittens.

("You can all stop laughing now," Chris sighs. "This actually isn't going where you think it is."

"Dude," Cory says helpfully. "You came back with chick underwear. We know exactly where this is going.")

The perhaps-not-quite-department stores had a strange custom of storing their winter gear next to the shelves of lovely women's underthings--

("Please don't ever use that phrase again," Chris says.

"They are, though," Darren insists.

"They _do_ have rhinestones," Naya chimes in.

"Wait," Lea says, "Was lovely referring to the underthings or to the women? Because if you're saying the underthings are only for lovely women, that's a little rude, don't you think--"

"Can I have them?" Naya interrupts her. "I like them. I would totally wear them."

"But would we get pictures?" Cory counters.

"I would totally wear them, too," Darren says agreeably.

"But would we get pictures?" Chris parrots. Cory looks disappointed.

"For you?" Darren says, bumping shoulders and smiling. "Video.")

How any of this translated into actually purchasing and returning with four sets of flip flops, a sparkling lace lingerie set, and penguin toe-socks was a story for another day, however, since none of the audience members actually did return their attention to the storyteller, and the storyteller was forced to set aside his tale for the time being.

2.

("Quit acting so wounded," Chris says. "It's a boring story anyway."

"How can you say that?" Darren asks. "You know of its import."

"It's boring when you tell the whole thing talking like _that_ ," Chris amends, and yells, "Darren, come back here!" when Darren stalks away.

"Show you _wounded_ ," he says when Chris grabs his shoulder, crowding close.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Chris says, rolling his eyes. He's smiling. "I won't mock our epic quest--"

"Quest of epic importance," Darren says.

"Quest of epic importance," Chris repeats dutifully. "I won't mock it anymore."

"Promise?" Darren asks, leaning forward intently.

"Promise," Chris says, rubbing his thumb across Darren's collarbone.

"What are you two doing?" a nearby make-up tech asks, blowing over her cup of coffee.

"Nothing," Chris says guiltily, stepping back.

"Oh, I get it," she says, with a look of dawning wonderment. "Method acting!")

3.

The shopping was not so much an accident as a deliberately-plotted, carefully-planned expedition. There may have been maps involved.

("If there weren't there should have been," Chris said.

"Still ruining it," Darren said.)

The sales people, the storyteller is trying to convey, were not of the most helpful breed.

("They never are," Lea says despairingly. "Remember when I just needed black pumps and we ended up going to the men's shoe section because I just said black shoes and size 9 and the guy thought I was talking about for my father?"

"Size 9 is rather large," Darren says, in the spirit of fairness.

"It's one size above average!" Lea squawks.)

Once the salespeople had shown the brave shoppers to the correct section, they had proceeded, with careful deliberation, to attempt to choose the perfect set.

("Wait," Cory says. "I missed something. You _were_ looking for the lingerie sets?"

"No," Chris says. "He means the mittens and scarf set."

"This is boring," Naya says.

Darren proceeds to do his best to look wounded again. Chris sighs.

"Well," Lea says meanly. She obviously hasn't gotten over the shoe size comment. "We already know the punchline, so it's hard to get excited."

"What makes you think the underwear's the punchline?" Darren asks. "Maybe this story will culminate in dressing room sex."

"Does it?" Lea asks.

"Absolutely," Chris says, not even bothering to sound sarcastic, right before Darren says, "I blew him."

"Please don't turn this into a game of what's-your-fantasy," Cory says. "I just ate."

"I'd love to hear gay sex fantasies," Lea says.

"I know," Cory says. "It's not _their_ sex fantasies I'm worried about hearing."

Lea takes offense again and Naya decides to back her up in the spirit of feminism or something, and Darren leans over and says quietly to Chris, "Wrong punchline or not, I totally would've blown you.")

4.

This is not a specific part of the story, really, so much as an attempt to take advantage of the situation and wax poetic about penguins.

("You have strange fetishes," Chris says, trying to fit his hand over Darren's mouth.

"I do," Darren gets out, muffled. "Want a first-hand introduction to them?"

Chris drops his hand, looking disgusted.

"Well, not the penguins," Darren says. "Maybe you're not ready for the penguins. How do you feel about handcuffs?"

Chris snorts.

"Spanking?" Darren asks hopefully.

"You're taking this joke too far," Chris tells him. "Finish your damn story.")

5.

("Try it again," he says. "Only a little more simply, this time."

"Just the facts, ma'am," Darren says solemnly, and then turns to his captive-if-it-kills-them audience and begins.)

When Darren takes Chris shopping they go in with a _plan_. This is not because they dislike malls, or shopping, or even salespeople, and more because they have limited free time. They also have short attention spans, which makes a plan more necessary than the average person might think.

This plan involves choosing the right set of winter accessories - not white, dirties too easily, not plaid, looks too hick - and then escaping back out to the parking lot where the cab is still waiting for them.

But as already mentioned, the salespeople were horribly unhelpful - what good store employee doesn't know why the winterwear would be next to the lingerie? This may be an unfair generalization, since they really only dealt with one salesperson, and she was unhelpful. But what else do you judge a breed on than the color of its stripes?

"You sound like an incredibly off-color nature documentary," Chris says reprovingly, holding up a blue and white-striped set.

"Off-color?" Darren says. "I haven't even mentioned anything fucking yet."

"Please don't," Chris says. He drapes the set over Darren's arm.

"Oh, that was supposed to be a pun, wasn't it?" Darren says. "Should I laugh? I know I'm a bit late, but--"

"Shut up and hold these," Chris says, shoving four more sets into Darren's arms. "Do you think I should look through the individual gloves and try to match things myself? I don't like anything here."

"Sure," Darren says. He turns and dumps everything on the display table of Christmas-themed panties, trailing Chris one row over. "Hey," he says a moment later, scooping a pair of socks off the floor. "They have penguins on them."

"Mittens?" Chris asks hopefully, peering over.

"Nope, socks," Darren says cheerfully. "I'm getting them."

"You can't wear them," Chris points out. "It's winter."

"They're socks. They're _meant_ to keep your feet warm."

"It's _winter_ ," Chris repeats, sighing. "All the shoes you have with you are close-toed."

"Department store," Darren says triumphantly. "There will be sandals here somewhere."

There are, it turns out, but it takes another foray with the unhelpful sales girl - who has the audacity to ask why they want sandals, it's _winter_ , and then look at them like they're strange and a little pitiable when Darren holds up the penguin-bedecked socks. Then, of course, they have to get both regular sandals and a pair of flip-flops for Darren _and_ for Chris, because Chris decides he doesn't want to be left out and Darren wants the full range of experience.

"You put it all down!" Chris yelps when they're at the register.

"What?" the salesgirl asks. She's not even trying to pretend she's not rolling her eyes.

"We left our stuff on the display table back in the lingerie and winterwear section," Darren says. "Any chance you could have somebody grab that for us?"

She looks more than a little irritated. "Sure. What did it look like?"

"Blue and white," Chris answers promptly. "I don't want the rest of them."

"Right," she sighs. "If you wait I'll have someone fetch it for you."

The wait's a little longer than they expected, though, and the store's front display is not _that_ interesting but it's more interesting than the empty expanse of the checkout counter, and five minutes later Darren is trying to get Chris riled up over the lack of Christmas Bears with shoes, since he personally feels this is a very important issue. Chris keeps turning his head hopefully toward the coat displays.

"Here," the salesgirl calls. "Sign this and take your shit."

Darren scribbles his name haphazardly, shoving his card into his wallet and swinging the bag as they walk out to the cab.

It's on the way back that they actually look in the bag, and they only do this because Darren desperately wants his toe socks before Chris makes off with them. What he pulls out is a rather fetching woman's bra and panty bundle.

Then Cory gets ahold of it while they - well, while Chris is trying to sneak it in, because Darren was all for holding it up like the spoils of war - and the audience finds themselves caught up to the present moment of events.

("So how _did_ you end up with it?" Lea asks. "You never actually answered the main question."

"We have no clue," Chris says.

"Either it was a really _bad_ salesperson," Darren says, "and she thought we deserved to be fucked with--"

"Or it was an honest mistake, and they grabbed a blue and white item off the wrong display table because we never actually said scarf and mittens," Chris finishes.

"My version is much more exciting," Darren says.

"That's why you're the storyteller, obviously," Chris says. Darren has the distinct sense that he's being humored.

"What are you going to do with it?" Cory asks. "Return it?"

"Obviously," Chris says. "It's either that or keep it as a souvenir."

Darren clears his throat.

"You are _not_ ," Chris says threateningly.

"I am!" Darren says. "If I don't keep them then what am I supposed to get you for Christmas?"

"You are not as funny as you think you are," Chris tells him disparagingly, but he's turning faintly red.)

1.

Darren knocks on the door to Chris' trailer. Normally he'd let himself right in, but he's already tried that. The door is locked.

"Yes?" Chris says, opening it a crack and staring through at him.

"Can I come in?" Darren asks politely. He's not going to infringe upon alone time if this is official alone time and not just happened-to-be-alone time. It's an important distinction.

"Yes," Chris says, nudging the door open a little further. He doesn't say anything else, turning around and busying himself with digging through a drawer for something. Darren goes up the steps slowly, shutting the door behind himself.

"Is this a bad time?" he asks. "I can come back."

"It's fine," Chris says. He's still not looking at him. "What do you need?"

Darren raises his eyebrows at his back. "Well, I thought I'd just come hang." He thinks for a minute. "I brought the lingerie."

Chris stops looking through the drawer, stepping back and rolling his shoulders. He breathes out slowly, like Darren's mother used to do when he'd just broken her favorite household object, and doesn't turn around while he says, "If you make one more crack about cross-dressing or fucking me I'm holding you to it."

"Your mom," Darren says, which is admittedly not his best moment. Chris turns and looks at him disbelievingly. "Cut me some slack," Darren says defensively. "It's hard to come up with these things, sometimes."

"I'm not joking," Chris says.

"Neither am I," Darren says, and at Chris' look amends himself. "Well, I am. But I'm not being sarcastic. Sarcasm's the lowest form of humor, you know."

"I thought that was puns," Chris says. He still looks confused.

"You're missing the point," Darren says. "I am not joking. Right now. I am serious, right now. I want to do you," and Chris looks pained. "You keep making a face at me and I'll scribble euphemisms for fucking all over the sides of your trailer," and of course he takes that seriously.

Chris says, "Does your offer include the lingerie? I really like the panties."

"And I have kinks," Darren says, snorting, but he holds onto the bag while Chris corners him against the wall.


	2. Redux

[77.](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=77)

It's right before midnight when Chris grabs his arm and turns him, says, "Happy New Year," softly and kisses him while the clock ticks over. It's light and chaste, hardly memorable, but when Chris pulls back Darren touches his mouth before he realizes he's doing it. Chris says, "It's okay. It's not gay if there's no tongue," and that's what Darren remembers, because it's the start of everything.

[34.](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=34)

It's not a big deal. It should be, with the cameras everywhere, but it's not hard at all to give an impassioned speech to Kurt's wobbly eyes and then kiss him like it's the end of a movie.

"I think that's it," Darren tells Chris when they're all out at a celebratory dinner - no, baby's first onscreen gay kiss cards do not exist, thanks for all the well wishes - and they've finally shook off most of the irritating people. "It felt like the end of a romantic comedy, and those things are always so fake that everything felt ridiculous."

"There's also the part where it was your job," Chris says dryly, and waves away their waitress' offer for another glass of water.

"Are you accusing me of not being a professional?" Darren gasps, mildly overdramatic.

Chris doesn't laugh like he should, though. Instead he says, "It doesn't count if you're getting paid for it."

"Oh," Darren says.

[31.](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=31)

They're all out on the beach and Chris is finally finished drowning himself in sunscreen. It's actually not that great a day to be out here, it's all choppy and there are clouds everywhere and it keeps sprinkling on them, but it's the only day they've got so they're ignoring all the warning signs.

Half an hour later, of course, they're all huddling under the closest pavilion, trying to escape the sudden onslaught of rain. Chris is squashed into Darren's side, shivering. Darren throws an arm around him, rubbing to try to warm him up. His skin's still slick with sunscreen.

When the rain finally stops they're all pretty out of spirits and ready to just pile back into their respective homes, but as they troop back to the cars Chris, still clinging and leeching Darren's body heat, says, "Hey, look! There's a rainbow."

"Hey, look, there is," Darren says, glancing over, and Chris bumps him excitedly.

When Chris smiles at him, though, Darren catches his jaw and kisses him, licking behind his teeth and trying to see if he tastes like anything other than salt air. He doesn't, and he just smells like sunscreen and they're both starting to shiver pretty violently. When Chris pulls back he looks dazed and a little confused so Darren grins and points up at the sky.

"There's a rainbow," he says, because what better explanation do you need?

[21.](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=21)

"Nobody saw," Chris promises as they get shuffled around by wardrobe.

Darren looks at Chris, flushed and still vaguely panicked, and thinks they might not have seen but they probably heard and they _definitely_ know. Chris seems to be taking comfort in repeating the assurance out loud, though, so he doesn't say anything at all. Just smile and nod, and repeat as necessary.

[7.](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=7)

Chris lets himself into Darren's hotel room quietly, and Darren fumbles for the remote to change the channel before Chris can see.

One of the girls moans loudly and the remote drops out of reach and Darren cringes while Chris smirks at the TV a little. All he says is, "Predictable," so Darren feels he's been let off lightly.

He doesn't leave, and Darren shifts a little uncomfortable and says, "Um." If it were another of his guy friends he'd offer to let him watch, but he's not sure what Chris would get out of lesbian porn.

He ends up offering to let Chris stay anyway, shifting so he's sitting at the end of the bed. Chris sits next to him, not on the other bed like he'd been expecting. A couple minutes later and the silence is awkward, watching Chris stare at the screen like he's analyzing the way the girls are spreading their legs or something. Darren asks him, "This doesn't do anything for you, does it?" He gestures at Chris' lap.

Chris raises his eyebrows, looking down at his own crotch pointedly, and Darren flushes. He's obviously not hard. "Not really," Chris answers, but he sounds like he's taking the question seriously. "I mean, porn is porn. Eventually I'd probably get interested, but I'd probably also get hard eventually just sitting on a park bench somewhere, so I'm not sure that's saying much. Of course," he pauses, looks right at Darren and smiles. "The sounds can be hot. Sex noises are always hot."

He doesn't say anything else, but its all Darren can focus on suddenly. The video has the over-the-top moans but it also has the little rustles of sheets and the slick sounds of wet fingers and tongues. He also listens for Chris' breathing, slow and even, and he realizes Chris can probably hear him, too, the way he's hitching in sudden breaths every time Chris shifts on the bed. He can't help wondering if Chris is thinking about him like this, too, if he's wonder what Darren's noises will sound like at the same time Darren wonders guiltily if Chris would sound like the girl does, the brunette one with the quieter, breathy voice. Probably not, but Darren can't help gasping at the thought anyway.

"Are you going to?" Chris asks, loud over the movie, and Darren startles and looks at him. Chris is looking at where his cock is pressing up against his jean's zipper. "You should."

Darren swallows hard, watching Chris calm, impassive face while he presses the heel of his palm against his cock. Just that makes him groan, hips twitching up, and part of Chris' mouth curls up in a smile when he scrabbles his fingers uselessly against the button and zipper.

"Let me," Chris says, reaching over and popping open the button, sliding the zipper down. He doesn't do anything else though, pulling his hands back in a parody of politeness.

Darren pulls himself out, biting his lip at the pressure at the base of his cock when his jeans bunch the wrong way.

"Go on," Chris nods, and Darren starts stroking himself slowly, looking blindly back at the TV There are different girls now, though, and he keeps glancing over at Chris. Finally he gives up fighting it and just watches him in the mirror over the dresser. He can only see Chris' profile but it's enough to tell that he's watching, intensely focused and not clinical or evaluating at all. He bites his lip when Darren rubs his palm over the head and stops breathing for a moment when Darren pulls his cock outward, so Darren leans back on one hand and lets his fingers play at the head, trying to show Chris what he wants.

He still can't stop himself from sneaking looks, hips pushing up every time he sees Chris' eyes still wide and watching. He moans, biting it off quickly when he sees Chris is hard from watching him, and he almost loses it when he hears Chris' breath shudder out, almost a sound. He has to look again, staring up at the mirror.

Chris turns and catches him, says, "You like putting on a show," and it's not his voice, breathy and low, that finally does it for Darren - it's the way his eyes light up at the idea, bright and pleased, and the way he doesn't look away while Darren comes.

After, Darren pants, feeling sticky and a little ridiculous, and Chris watches him breathe, smiling faintly.

"You--" Darren starts, reaching over to him, but Chris stands quickly and backs towards the door.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Straight guys' porn isn't really my idea of the best time."

Darren blinks at him, confused, and it isn't until the door shuts that he figures out that Chris was talking about the movie.

[44.](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=44)

How they end up in the back of a movie theater showing French films is sort of a long story, but how Darren ends up getting off is pretty simple.

It starts with Chris saying, "This movie sucks, can I blow you?" and really gets going when Darren says, "Yes," fervently and really pretty shocked.

Chris folds up easily, shoving Darren's knees apart so he can squirm between them. Darren says, "Can I ask what brought this on?"

Chris snorts and otherwise ignores him, dragging his jeans open. He gets Darren's cock out with alarming proficiency, slightly chilled fingers curling around the base.

"Here, scoot forward," Chris says, grabbing Darren's hips and hauling him closer.

Darren's sprawled uncomfortably back and his legs are going to cramp like a bitch, but Chris licks happily up his cock and he _really_ doesn't care.

Chris teases him first, getting him wet before he tightens his grip and ducks his head down, sucking smooth and hot over the head. Darren pants, staring down at Chris, and when Chris takes him in further he twitches his hands against his legs, trying not to reach out.

Pulling off with an obscene noise, Chris smiles up at him. He says, "You can touch," voice almost rough, and Darren tries to moan out an encouraging response. Chris strokes him a few times and then leans back over and licks between his fingers, startling wet touches, and Darren gives up on manners and digs his fingers into Chris' hair.

Chris closes his eyes for a moment and leans back into it so Darren pets him, down over his neck and back up. He can tell when he's hitting the right spots because Chris slips up, his mouth going loose and sloppier every time. It's hotter that way, like he's somewhere close to how desperate Darren feels.

When Chris opens his eyes again he stares up at Darren, eyes hooded, and while a woman yells at her sister onscreen Darren lets his head drop back weakly and comes like the easiest person on the planet. Chris sucks him though it and then braces himself on Darren's knees, going slowly to his feet. He moves close, nuzzling in, but turns his head when Darren tries to kiss him.

Darren's distracted by the way Chris grinds down against his thigh and asking, "Please," when Darren tries to work his hand into Chris' pants. Chris comes before the French girls are even done arguing, and Darren licks across his collarbone since he's still keeping his head turned stubbornly away.

Darren has yet to work out Chris' issues, so he mostly ignores it and hugs him close for as long as Chris will let him get away with. He's considering wiping his hand off on the seat cushion, feeling vaguely guilty, when Chris makes a lazy noise and finally lifts his head up. Darren relinquishes his hold reluctantly, and Chris considers him for a moment before he lifts Darren's hand and sucks his fingers clean, like licking away his own come is the most normal thing in the world.

Chris makes him sit thought the rest of the movie, looking self-satisfied. Darren mostly watches him out of the corner of his eye and wonders why Chris won't let himself be kissed the rest of the evening, not even when he tangles his fingers with Darren's at the end.

[59.](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=59)

Darren can't get the image out of his head. Every time he looks at Chris, even when they're both tired and bitchy from choreography practice and wearing the ugliest workout clothes that can be bought, he sees Chris blinking at him, slow and happy, while he licks his own come off Darren's body.

His preoccupation is understandable, he thinks, so when Chris corners him at the end of the next day and asks why the hell he's been staring around like someone drugged him Darren just says, "Is there an empty dressing room around here?"

Chris doesn't even hesitate, just drags him around the corner and down the hall, but Darren only lets him get the door shut before he kneels in front of him, clumsy and hopeful. "Can I?"

Frozen, Chris says, "You want to--" and trails off.

"I want to blow you," Darren provides helpfully, smirking, and Chris gets over whatever it was and makes a face at him, helping when Darren can't get the drawstrings on his sweats untied.

Darren doesn't think guys are all that hot, as a rule, and Chris in his underwear is really nothing all that new -- they see each other change pretty often, after all. When he works the briefs down, too, he has a strange flashback to helping dress one of his younger cousins, but then Chris' cock is right in front of him, starting to curve up towards Chris' belly, and the highly inappropriate comparison flees.

Chris moans when Darren wraps his hand around him, and Darren leans forward and licks over the head before he can chicken out. It's no worse than giving a girl head, he decides, and he opens his mouth to suck him in.

"Here, like," Chris says vaguely, but he wiggles forward and holds the back of Darren's head, helping, and it's surprisingly easy after that.

"Ugh," Darren says afterwards, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. He's grateful for the tissues Chris offers.

"It's okay," Chris says, touching his mouth. "You didn't swallow."

Darren blinks at him in confusion but Chris is already dropping down and crawling over him, promising to return the favor and he can just close his eyes and relax, and Darren's always thought Chris gives good advice, so who is he to argue?

[27.](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=27)

"What's up?" Darren asks. Chris doesn't usually just show up on his doorstep.

"I can't sleep," Chris says, whining. "And I'm tired."

"So you're here," Darren says. Chris gives him a look. Darren doesn't blame him, because yeah, _obviously_ he's here. "What can I do?" he asks instead.

Chris is already settling onto his couch. "Do you have any good movies?"

"No," Darren says. "But you're welcome to watch bad ones with me and make fun of them."

"Okay," Chris says agreeably, yawning around the word.

Darren has to practically shove him to get enough room on the couch and as soon as he's settled Chris does his best approximation of a pitiful look and asks hopefully, "Blanket?"

Darren stares at him disbelievingly but Chris doesn't relent. Darren sighs and gets up to grab a blanket.

He throws it at Chris playfully but Chris just unfolds it, and as soon as Darren's sitting back down Chris squirms around and sprawls against him, settling in.

Darren freezes, waiting for Chris to do or say something, but he finally glances over and Chris isn't awake. He's breathing slowly and Darren raises his eyebrows and decides to go with it - he'll wake Chris up when he decides to go to bed.

He never does go to bed, though, and when he wakes up with a stiff neck it's to Chris trying to climb off of him carefully.

"Hey," Darren says groggily.

Chris pats his face clumsily, still more asleep than awake. "Hey. Bed, where?"

"Ugh," Darren says helpfully, and hauls himself up. "Come on."

Chris steals his side of the bed but Darren has no illusions that he'd actually get him to move. "This is weird," he says. "Wrong side."

"Hm," Chris mumbles. "It's perfectly fine so long as nobody comes." He wiggles his foot underneath Darren's leg as if in emphasis.

"What?" Darren asks, confused, but Chris only snores at him.

[10.](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=10)

In Darren's defense, he was not expecting the end of the season to require Chris to dress in a girl's skirt because Kurt was proving a point to Rachel. Chris spends every day they're filming hanging around shamelessly and telling the girls that he approves of this whole shaved-legs thing.

Darren makes it to Thursday, and then Chris smiles at him and offers him coffee, which, okay, that's not out of the norm, but Darren's been trying to ignore him as much as possible the past couple of days and now Chris is talking to him directly, and he says, "You, uh," and hauls him into the nearest empty dressing room.

Chris is laughing at him, but that's okay because he's also kissing him.

"What's so funny?" Darren manages to say before Chris goes back to biting his mouth.

"I can't believe it took you three days," Chris says, smiling. "I would've bet anything you'd have gone for it on the first, maybe the second if you were feeling nervous this week."

"Maybe I thought you'd take offense if I jumped you because you were dressed like a girl," Darren says, and Chris snorts, rude.

"I've been waiting weeks for this to film," he says. "I actually thought this would be the only way you'd jump me."

"Well," Darren says, "it probably sped up the process." Chris hadn't come near him for almost a month, though, so it probably wouldn't have been much longer. He's not going to admit that and risk losing the weird game they're playing, the one where Chris broadens his horizons and Darren pretends - is supposed to pretend? - that he isn't quite okay with it.

"We only have a couple minutes," Chris says, shoving him back onto a couch.

"That's enough," Darren says. It might be embarrassing to admit, usually, but Chris ducks his head and looks pleased, and he comes easily when Darren tugs him onto his lap.

Chris watches him curiously, face open, while Darren touches his fingers to the outsides of Chris' knees and then trails them up, tracing the strangely smooth, bare skin all the way up to the hem of the skirt. Instead of reaching under Darren brushes over the fabric, finding the waist and untucking Chris' shirt so he can get at the skin underneath. Chris shivers a little like he's ticklish and Darren grins and digs his fingers in.

"Not funny," Chris gasps, twisting away. "Stop, or you won't get laid."

It's an effective threat, and Chris knows it. Darren stops obediently, kissing Chris' throat instead, and Chris reaches down to cup him through the costume trousers. Darren pushes up into his grip, biting back a groan and turning Chris' head so he can kiss him. Chris makes as if he's going to move away and Darren grabs his hips tightly, pulling him down and close. The skirt slides up and the contrast between the uniform blue and the white panties that go under the skirt makes Darren stare down, moaning. Chris angles his head down, intercepting Darren to kiss, and Darren would object to losing the view but he's never going to turn down an opportunity to have Chris suck on his tongue. Chris kisses like he's always got something to prove.

"Hey!" Someone says, rattling the locked doorknob, and Darren jumps. Chris freezes, slapping a hand over Darren's mouth when he starts laughing.

"Leave them alone," one of the girls says.

"Them?"

"Yeah," and now it sounds like Mark, holy shit, are they all out there eavesdropping or something? "Darren's in there with Chris."

"Go away," Chris hollers at the door. They do, but not before one of them makes a comment about humping. Chris looks mortified. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" Darren asks curiously. "I thought it sounded like a good idea."

Chris groans, shaking his head, but Darren grinds up as hard as he can and Chris decides, about half a minute later, that he's changed his mind. He slumps over onto Darren's shoulder, panting, and Darren spares a brief thought for their costumes before he nudges Chris over onto his back on the couch.

Chris drags his legs up, digging his knees against Darren's hips to hold him close.

"See?" Darren says, rocking against Chris' hip. "This is a great idea."

Chris bites his ear. Darren decides to take it as agreement.

[113](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=113) and [125](http://www.itsnotgayif.com/?if=125).

Darren wakes up before dawn because his leg has slipped out from under the covers and his foot is freezing. He tries to imagine how Chris would tell him this doesn't count: maybe because he's the big spoon and Chris is still asleep? He'd have to wake up to say anything, though, and as soon as he does he'll pull away, so Darren kisses the back of his neck lightly and settles back in to sleep.

0.

He catches Chris on his way out the door in the morning. Mostly this is an impressive feat that involves stumbling out to the living room while Chris is wiggling his feet into his shoes.

"You could stay, you know," Darren says, yawning and trying to roll knots out of his shoulders. He's been sleeping wrong the past couple days, and he's tense every time he wakes up.

"Oh, no," Chris says. "We've got to be on set soon."

"Right," Darren says. "But we could go in together."

Chris makes a face and Darren rolls his eyes. "I have a spare toothbrush and you can shower here."

"People would assume we were together," Chris says. "I can't just brush it off if I show up smelling like you and your soap."

"Look, don't take this the wrong way," Darren says bluntly, "but is this some weird kink of yours?"

"What?" Chris asks.

"Do you get off on thinking you're fucking a straight guy? Because if so, okay, whatever," Darren shrugs, shaking it off, "but I think you should at least tell me that's what's going on."

"What?" Chris asks again. Darren doesn't take it personally. Chris is never sharpest when he's just woken up.

"Do you like fucking around with me?" he asks patiently. "Because if there's no real reason for it I would like to take you on an actual date sometime. Also, sleepovers that aren't prompted by insomnia or orgasms."

"Right," Chris says. He gives it a funny lilt, half-laughing and the other half scornful.

Darren winces. "You don't have to make it sound like such a stupid idea. A simple no would work." He'd probably still settle for this anyway, because he's always been inclined to be stupid.

"You're serious," Chris says, tilting his head consideringly. Darren blinks at him and tries not to yawn again - this feels like one of those important moments, and yawning is usually not the recommended course of action for those. Instead he nods, very calmly, and tries not to look like he wants to either smack Chris or force him back to bed for cuddles and sleep. Finally, Chris shrugs. "Okay."

"Okay?" Darren says disbelievingly. "Almost a year of acting like a freak for no apparent reason and you just say okay?"

"You want me to argue?" Chris asks.

Darren takes the hint and retreats back to bed. Chris follows him in and steals the warm spot and most of the blankets. Darren doesn't shove him over, because he's a gentleman like that, but before he falls asleep he grumbles, "Picky, difficult boyfriends," and Chris smacks his shoulder. He also kisses his cheek, though, so Darren counts it as a win.

End.


End file.
